by Joan Vincent
“That is horrible,” Helene exclaimed. “Is there no one to lend the sum?”
“None.”
“Would it be so terrible for your friend to marry this man? Mother has oft said how her parents arranged for her to wed Father long before they met.”
Audacia studied her hands. “At one time it would not have been so difficult—but—but Beth has discovered she is in love with another.”
“Will he not aid her?” the young girl asked brightly, seeing the simple answer.
“Oh—Beth would not dare to speak to him of it. She believes he—knows he does not return her affection.” Audacia fought back threatening tears.
“Then he is not worthy,” Helene told her with youthfully dismissal.
“But he is,” Audacia cried and ran from the room.
* * * *
“Mother dear.” Darby kissed the cheek the viscountess turned to him. “How are you this eve? I had hoped to find Audacia with you,” he said looking about the salon. “Is it not early for her to have retired?”
“She has not. Trotter, call Miss Audacia to return to the salon,” the viscountess ordered. “She is in Miss Helene’s room.”
“Do not tell her I have arrived,” Darby added.
The butler gone, Lady Darby gave her son a deep frown. “I expected to be able to send an announcement to the Gazette today. Now you cannot count on her presence if she knows you are here?”
“Audacia is not as willing as one might wish,” Patrick answered lightly. “Shyness on her part, no doubt.”
“Have you failed with her? You know what that would mean to us? You must not. There has to be some way to persuade the chit,” Lady Darby said desperately. “I was so hoping—”
“Do not fear, Mother. She will consent.”
“There is nothing but ruin and disgrace if you fail. Already the duns call. You have lived far beyond our means. Without a betrothal announcement soon, they shall cut off all credit.
“I am desperate, Patrick. You must realize how perilous our position is.”
“You have told me that many times, Mother. Be assured I shall succeed. You shall be able to announce our betrothal or . . . marriage,” he said as he adjusted his cravat jauntily, “on the morrow.”
The viscountess blanched slightly. “Marriage? You are not going to force—”
“You wished to see me, my lady?” Audacia started when she saw Patrick to one side. “I wish to retire, my lady, a terrible headache plagues me,” she added and backed a step toward the door.
“Nonsense, my dear. Patrick is just the one to soothe your nerves. It is quite natural for you to be maidenly demure, but put your fears aside.” Lady Darby rose. “I shall leave you two alone for just a few moments, now,” she gushed expectantly and walked out.
“My dear Audacia, would it not be more proper to kiss your betrothed rather than to glare at him so?” Patrick smirked.
“You are not my betrothed and never shall be,” she returned in as firm a voice as she could muster.
“Have you not seen Daniel?”
“We must have time. All will be repaid,” Audacia told him. “You cannot mean to take all my father has.”
“Only if you refuse me,” he stated coldly. “Why resist? You know you cannot escape.”
“I shall never consent. Never.” Her nails dug into her palms as she clenched her fists. “My father will not permit this to happen.”
“Are you truly so simple-minded, Audacia? I thought better of you. Your father will have no choice when he learns all.”
“I don’t care. I shall never marry you. Never.”
“We shall speak about it on the morrow, when you have conquered your hysteria. Go now.” He waved irritably.
Refusing to give into the panic that threatened, Audacia glared at him and then walked calmly from the room.
“Well?” Lady Darby questioned upon re-entering. “Did she consent?”
“I shall return in the morn. The matter will be resolved then. You will aid me by not being present.”
“You must persuade her.” The viscountess clutched her son’s arm. “All is lost if you do not.”
Chapter 22
Dark circles beneath Audacia’s eyes bespoke her sleepless, tormented night. All through the dark hours she had wrestled with her choices, none of which was satisfactory in any way. The thought of wedding Darby repulsed her. She could not bear to consider it.
The loss of her home and the ruination of her father and brother didn’t appeal either. About halfway through the night she had thought to seek Lord Greydon’s help as Helene suggested. With morn this too seemed impossible.
The lack of sleep and the strain of her troubles caused Audacia to quail momentarily as Patrick Darby hurried into the breakfast room. What small appetite she had fled.
“Audacia, how fortunate you are about. Fetch your bonnet and pelisse. You must come with me at once,” he urged excitedly.
“There is no reason for—”
“It is Daniel. He is asking for you.”
“Oh, Lord no,” she breathed, stricken. “He has not harmed himself?”
Darby nodded. “Daniel has shot himself. I am at fault,” he said contritely. “Please hurry. You must see him before it is too—”
“Return to your carriage,” Audacia cut him off. “I shall join you immediately.”
“Where are you racing?” Helene asked as Audacia ran through the upper floor’s corridor to her room.
“Daniel shot himself,” the other returned. She jabbing her bonnet atop her curls and fumbled with the ties. “Patrick is taking me to him now.” She took the young girl’s hand. “Pray for him, Helene. He must live.”
“I shall,” the girl answered, shaken by the news. She followed Audacia down the steps and out the door. Darby scowled and ordered his sister to return indoors as he handed Audacia into the closed carriage.
How odd, thought Helene, for him to have a closed carriage and four. Surely a hackney would have been faster? Shrugging, she dismissed the thought and worried about Audacia and her brother.
* * * *
“Miss Helene, have you seen Miss Audacia,” Miss Bea asked after having gone through the house in search of her charge.
“Have you not heard the news, Miss Strowne?” Helene asked. “But then I suppose there was not time to tell everyone. I had thought we would have gotten word by now,” she added as the long case clock struck eleven. “It has been at least an hour since they left.”
“Miss, begin again. You make no sense,” the abigail admonished.
“Patrick came for Audee. Daniel shot himself.”
The abigail turned chalk-white and began to waver. She made her way to a chair and sat. “Does he still live?”
“I believe so. Patrick wouldn’t have fetched Audee in such a great rush if he were dead, would he?”
“I suppose not.” Miss Bea fanned herself. “Oh, poor Sir Aderly. This is terrible. Why would the lad do such a thing? I must go to him at once. Where did this happen?”
Helene shrugged. “So little was said,” she explained uneasily. She tried to recall what she had overheard Patrick tell Trotter.
Wringing her hands, the abigail rose. “I must know how he is. Lady Darby will know what to—”
“Mother left before Patrick arrived,” Helene interrupted her.
“Then I shall go to Sir Aderly’s rooms. Surely they would have taken the lad there.”
“I shall go with you,” Helene informed her and was surprised to find Miss Bea too upset to refuse her. In moments they were in the hackney Trotter procured for them and were on their way to Pulteney’s.
* * * *
“Miss Strowne,” a shocked Ballin greeted the abigail when he opened the door. “This is a most unexpected—and pleasant surprise,” he winked. “But what brings you here alone?”
“Please Mr. Ballin. How can you at a time like this?” she said tremulously. “Where have they taken the poor boy?”
“I am sorry,
Miss Bea, I don’t understand.” He studied her quizzically. “Sir Aderly is meeting with Richard Trevithick about his attempts with a steam threshing machine and isn’t to return till this eve.”
“You mean he has not heard? Oh, lud. What are we to do?” she clucked anxiously.
“Heard what? Here. Come, take a seat.” Ballin took her arm and guided her to a chair. “You look frightfully pale, Bea.”
“It is Daniel,” the abigail told him. “He has . . . shot himself.” She began to sob.
“Let me get you some brandy,” Ballin muttered. Pouring two large draughts, he quaffed one and took the other to Bea. “Drink this,” he urged, pressing it into her hands. “You will feel better for it.”
One sip assured her it was to be swallowed in one gulp. The brandy burned a path but revived her quickly. “What are we to do, Mr. Ballin? He could be dying . . . or . . . dead.” Miss Bea sobbed anew.
“Calm yourself, woman.” The valet’s hard tone straightened her. “Have you no pride? There’ll be time enough for blubbering after the fact. Did ye come here alone?” he asked as he struggled into his jacket and grabbed his hat.
“Miss Darby awaits me in the lobby,” she sniffed.
“Let us get her in tow and find Sir Aderly,” Ballin told her. He took her arm.
“Yes,” she said and brushed away her tears.
“That is more like the Miss Strowne I know,” he praised her.
* * * *
“Sir Aderly and Mr. Trevithick left some time ago and the butler doesn’t know their direction,” Ballin told Miss Bea when he climbed back into the hackney. “We shall go to Squire Webster and see what he recommends,” he said and gave the address to the driver.
“Oh, you are so masterful,” Miss Bea sighed. “I would never have known what to do.”
“You would have managed, Bea,” he said. Reaching across Helene he took the abigail’s hand.
She blushed and bit her lip. “That is most kind of you.”
Helene glanced from one to the other, and then sighed in disgust. Was everyone in the world, even the servants, affected by “love”?
“Young Mr. Aderly may have died by the time we find him,” Helene pointed out with an annoyed pout.
Starting guiltily, Miss Bea withdrew her hand from Ballin’s.
Glaring at Helene, Ballin drew his back. “We shall hope for better,” he told the abigail stoutly. A shy smile rewarded him.
* * * *
Ballin opened the hackney cab’s door and motioned for the two to come out. “The squire wants you both to come in and tell him what you know. He has ordered the earl’s landau. Go in while I take care of the hackney,” he instructed and turned to the driver.
“You are certain Audacia said Daniel had shot himself?” Geoffrey asked a second time.
“How many times must I say it,” Helene objected.
“But I spoke with Daniel just an hour past,” the squire told the three anxious figures.
“That is impossible,” Miss Bea declared. “Helene said Mr. Darby came for Audacia near ten this morn.”
“There is some foul work afoot here. Let us go find Lord Greydon. I know he will be interested. Come, the landau should await us. I believe we shall find the earl at his mother’s. He was to call upon his sister on my behalf,” he half frowned. This concern outweighed the other for the moment.
“But why would Mr. Darby tell Miss Audacia her brother was dying when he wasn’t?” Miss Bea asked Ballin.
“Not all men are honourable, pardon milords, miss.” He bowed to Helene. “I fear Miss Audacia may have been abducted.”
The abigail raised her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my. Oh, dear,” she clucked.
“Do not fear.” Ballin took her hand. “The squire and I shall see that she is unharmed.”
“With you to rely upon, Mr. Ballin, I trust for only the best results,” Miss Bea told him, returning his grip. “Your worth has been hidden from me too long.”
Ballin reddened even as his chest swelled. “I pray I am worthy of such praise,” he replied, “and high it is comin’ from the like o’ ye.” Beneath Miss Bea’s doting look he dared not voice his assessment of Audacia’s fate.
“Will you two come or not?” Helene called impatiently from the door.
* * * *
“But this is ghastly,” Lady Lucille said when Miss Bea and Helene had finished their tale. “What can he mean to do, Roland?” She turned to her brother and was taken aback by the utter grimness of his expression.
“I know not what his intent is, but her reputation will be ruined if word of this gets abroad,” the earl bit out. “What do you make of it, Geoff?”
“If only we could make some sense of why,” the squire returned. “It could give us some clue to his direction. Did Audacia ever speak about Darby?” he asked Lady Lucille.
“Never,” she answered. “You must do something.”
Taking her hand, Geoffrey gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll take some action.” Her hand still in his, he turned to Greydon.
“But what, Geoff?” the earl asked, his inability to go to Audacia’s aid twisted his gut.
“I—I think I could—could tell you why,” a quiet voice boomed in the silence.
All eyes turned to Helene.
“Once—some time ago, I heard Mother and Patrick talking. They were—were speaking about Audacia and that Patrick must marry her.”
“Did you hear why?” Geoffrey asked.
“Oh, yes. Mother said Sir Aderly had revealed that Audacia had a dowry—a legacy from her mother’s family. And although there was no amount mentioned, Mother was certain it would be large enough to solve all our problems.”
Greydon looked to Geoffrey to assess the truth of it. “It could be so. I have no way of knowing. Miss Bea?”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine there being much there. Lady Aderly’s family was well-to-do but it all went to the Aderly heir.”
“So we know he means to wed her, but that is no help.” Greydon threw up his hands in disgust.
“I know where Patrick means to take Audee,” Helene added, guiltily.
Lady Lucille took the young girl’s hands. “Oh, please tell us,” she implored.
Helene began haltingly, but her voice grew stronger. “He means to take her to Chatham. I—I heard him tell Trotter a joke about a preacher there willing to marry anyone for a price—even unwilling women,” she ended, her head hanging low. “He always tried to get the best of poor Trotter.” She looked at the five staring at her.
“I really did believe what he told Audacia about her brother.”
“I’ll see to the high-perch phaeton and my fastest four,” Greydon told Geoffrey as he ran from the room.
“I’ll go with you,” Lady Lucille said, also galvanized into action as she headed to collect her bonnet and travelling cloak. “Audacia may have need of me.”
“I did right, didn’t I, Squire?” Helene asked, a small tear running down her cheek. “I couldn’t let Patrick hurt Audee, could I?”
“You did the only thing you could, Helene,” Geoffrey told her and gave her a one-armed hug. “Life often gives us difficult choices,” he told her. “You only did what had to be done. Do not worry. All will be well.”
Helene wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “Last eve Audee told me it was a friend from Warwickshire who was being made to marry—but she meant herself,” she said.
“She meant she could not marry Patrick because she loved someone else. That cannot be you, squire, but who? Audee believes he despises her, whoever it is. Do you know who it could be?”
Geoffrey didn’t answer, for Greydon had returned and overheard Helene.
Joy and deep regret lay mixed upon the earl’s features. “We must not tarry,” he swore and turned on heel, strode hurried out of sight.
“Ballin.” Geoffrey motioned the valet to walk with him as he spoke. “Say nothing of this to Sir Aderly . . . nor to anyone else, including the Darbys. If God wil
ls it we shall return this eve with Audacia—or send word fate. Plead ignorance. Offer no explanations. Then whatever we put forth will not be contradicted. Understood?”
“Aye, squire. You can rely on Miss Bea and me.”
“Good man,” Geoffrey said, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Await me,” Lady Lucille called, running toward them.
Taking her hand as she came abreast, Geoffrey gave her a bolstering smile before they ran to join Roland.
Chapter 23
Patrick patted his jacket. “With this special license I have no fear. Shouldn’t you be bloody glad he shall wed us?” Darby leaned forward and ran his finger along the curve of Audacia’s cheek. “After this night you would beg me to marry you.” He trailed a finger down her throat towards the low neckline of her morning gown.
Shuddering, Audacia pushed his hand away.
Darby chuckled maliciously but leaned back against the cushions.
A chill ran through Audacia at his look. Sitting ramrod straight on her side of the enclosed coach, she continued to add to her list of impolite adjectives that suited Patrick Darby. It had not taken long after she entered the coach to learn his true intent. The relief of knowing that Daniel was unharmed was quickly replaced by anger and then fear.
Lounging in the opposite corner, Darby gazed at Audacia with the fascination of a viper. “The journey could be far more comfortable if you relaxed. And far more pleasant for us both if you abandoned your false dignity,” he told her lazily.
“Still not speaking, eh?” Patrick noted when he got no response. “Have it your way for now, my dear, but remember that when we arrive in Chatham I shall have mine.”
“No cleric will do as you say,” Audacia angrily broke her silence.
* * * *
Geoffrey mounted the landau. “A coach and four like Helene described passed this way a little under two hours past,” he told the waiting pair.
“We’ll never catch them in time,” Lady Lucille said dismally.